Mileage
by Rhanon Brodie
Summary: "All right," Connor growled mischievously, "get over here. I'm goin' ta show ya what an 'old man' can do." Age is just a number, isn't it? One shot reader challenge for pitbullsrok. I don't do them often, but when I do, this is what happens. Prompts: humor, pulled muscle. Connor / OFC, M for a reason


_A/N: for pitbullsrok, the other co-winner of my reader quote challenge in Ean Beag. Like I said, I don't do this often, but when I do...I was given the prompts of 'humor' and 'Connor pulls a muscle and needs Murphy to help him out'; this was the result. Humor and smut rolled together in one. I think I did rather well, don't you? Connor / OFC, takes place between BDS I and BDS II._

* * *

He kissed her soundly, but let her set the pace. She didn't disappoint and pressed her lips eagerly against his; her tongue swiped against his mouth until his lips parted. He tasted like smoke and whiskey; she like strawberries and dark chocolate, and neither of them could get enough. Christ, he hadn't had her in _days_, what with bringing the herd in, and now, after sitting through two excruciating hours of listening to both his Da _and_ his brother drone endlessly about the size and quality of stock, Connor MacManus had managed to slip away to the nearest whiskey house in search of a few hours reprieve.

Said reprieve included whiskey, but the main attraction was currently sliding her fingers through his hair and tugging sharply as he softly bit a path down from her mouth to her collarbone, gliding his tongue along the soft skin exposed as he moved the collar of her shirt aside. The booth where they sat was dark, in the corner, with only the burning wall mounted lamps throwing light and shadow across them. It wouldn't matter if they were in broad daylight; the other patrons of the whiskey house were content with their glasses and stories, and knew well enough to leave the lighter half of the MacManus twins to his own devices.

He supposed that if they were still in America, there might be looks. The girl who was practically in his lap was ten years younger than his thirty-four, but this was Ireland, and things like that didn't raise too much of a concern. Besides, the girl was of age and was more than willing; she had proven that last month when he'd come into the place smelling of sheep shit and woken next to her sweet smell the next morning. Ah, she was a fine girl, dark hair and eyes, with no accent to speak of. She was from Canada, a student now living abroad, with what turned out to be a very annoying flatmate.

The hand that had been combing through his hair clutched his shoulder and then the front of his coat, and she crawled onto him, her lips seeking out his ear. She licked the shell slowly, curling her tongue around the soft morsel of his earlobe and eliciting a rather lusty groan from him. His hands caught her waist and squeezed, pulling her down into his lap, and he glanced up to see her mischievous dark eyes sparkling.

"Let's get out of here, hmm?" she murmured, rolling her hips down against him again.

He grunted, his eyes slipping closed for a second, and nodded. "Aye."

In the parking lot, they paused under the haloed moon and kissed some more, where he sat her on the hood of her car and stood between her knees, hauling her forward to grind against the front of his jeans. She hissed, making him smirk, and he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and growled playfully.

"Deidre has company tonight," she panted, her hands clutching at the firm muscles beneath his sweater before rucking up the hem and digging underneath to find firm, blissfully warm flesh. She stroked his skin until he purred.

His purr turned into a moan of annoyance and he shook his head. "Da and Murph are home tonight," he panted before knocking her off balance and onto her back. He crawled up onto the hood, over her, and pressed his hips down against her.

"Shit, Connor," she moaned, finding the waistband of his jeans and daring to reach inside. He whimpered and his head came up with a gasp as she squeezed him gently. "I'm about ready for you to screw me on the car."

He shook his head, pushing the thick heat of his cock into her grip and slamming a fist down on the hood next to her head. "Don't say tings like dat," he grunted, pushing her jacket aside and grabbing her breast. He palmed it roughly before pulling the nipple up through the fabric of her shirt and bra. He pinched it, rolling it back and forth, delighting in the breathy gasp she replied with. "Yer car would need some serious body work after I was through."

Her dark eyes snapped open and she glared at him. "_I_ need some serious body work right now, Conn," she moaned.

He complied and moved his hand to her other breast, rubbing his thumb in circles over her nipple until her head landed on the hood with a hollow _thunk_.

"C'mere," he panted, sliding off of her and pulling her up to sit again. "Right here," he urged, sliding her until she balanced on the edge of one fender and her knees were wide. He caught her hands and placed her palms flat on the hood behind her and then dove for her belt. "Don't move. Gonna take tha edge off, aye?" His blue eyes snapped with mischief and before she could protest, he had unfastened her belt and jeans and had slipped his hand inside, palming her through her panties.

"Ah, _fuck_, Conn!" she hissed, her legs clamping together at the warm zip of pleasure his touch created.

She mewled and twisted her hips, and he wasn't sure if she was trying to make him stop or touch her more. He opted for the latter, shushing her like a rogue lamb and prying her knees open once more. "Trust me, lass," he murmured as he towered over her. "Ya like it when I touch ya," he reminded her.

Like she needed reminding. The things Connor could do with his calloused fingers were beyond comprehension and she decided that if sheep farming didn't work out, he could probably make a swell living as a piano player. Or guitar player. Or masseuse. Her inner monologue dissolved as Connor found her mouth once more, his tongue lashing against hers in a deep, throaty kiss that made their teeth click together. When she was panting into his mouth, he pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. With her gaze snared by his, he gently tucked his hand into her panties and stroked the very tip of her clit so softly that she felt like she was being burned up and frozen all at the same time. Her back arched and her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she stared up at him, her hips bucking into his hand.

"Thassright," he muttered, kissing her again. He loved seeing her like this: wound up to the point of recklessness, letting him do what he wanted to. It was no secret that he was the capricious twin, the demanding twin, the one that could be borderline selfish. He liked making her come first because he was greedy; the look on her face when she fell apart for him that first time of the night made him that much more voracious. It made her tight as virgin on prom night, too, and he liked the way her eyes screwed shut when he pushed inside against the hot, snug dampness between her thighs.

It was a like a gun going off in the dead of night. One minute she was staring up into Connor's face, slicking his fingers as he worked her over, and then next thing she knew she shrieked sharply before being cut off by his lips. She shook all over from the hips down and heard Connor's groan before the scent of his hair filled her lungs, his head burrowing against his neck. "Feckin' gorgeous," he said softly before lifting his head.

"Goddammit, Connor," she groaned, sliding ungracefully onto the ground and fumbling with the fly of her pants. "Now I can't think straight. I don't even think I can walk straight."

"I'll drive," he said, fishing her keys from her pocket.

"Where are going?"

"Well," Connor started as he unlocked her door. He got her settled into the seat and shut the door, and then jogged around to the driver's side. "I figure that tha barn's as good a place as any," he shrugged. He shoved the keys into the ignition and the car roared to life. He glanced at her and bobbed his eyebrows. "Whadya say, lass? Ever taken a roll in da hay?"

* * *

"Shh!" Connor muttered as they wove up the gravel path of the driveway. They'd ditched the car on the road, as the sound of the engine and the headlights would alert his Da and brother that he was home. If he didn't come in right away, one of them, likely Murphy, would come looking, and Connor didn't fancy seeing his brother's face anytime soon.

She giggled as she fought to keep up with him. "Slow down!" she hissed playfully. "Christ, you'd think you're never getting laid again!"

"Lord's name," Connor scolded, yanking her forward and leaning down for a kiss. He delivered a swift swat to her ass for good measure. "Whass tha matter, can't keep up?"

"Oh, I can keep up, old man," she muttered, taking off for the barn up ahead.

Connor stared after her. "Old man?" he groused to himself. He jogged to catch her up and pushed her against the rough wood of the broad side of the barn. "It's called bein' experienced, lass. Don't tell me ya don't like all da tings I can do ta ya wit' only me little finger."

She actually quivered at his lofty words, because he wasn't lying: Connor MacManus had some serious skills under his belt…literally and figuratively. That was one of her many reasons for being into older guys. Men her age (who were actually closer to boys) were all about getting off as fast as possible and then falling asleep. She'd only been seeing Connor for a month and had maybe slept with him ten times (not counting the numerous evenings spent heavily petting), but each time she did, it only got more intense. More…_vigorous_. Hell, she was fairly certain that there were three separate occasions that he didn't even come from being inside of her and let her coax him with her hand and mouth. _That_ was hot. Like he was saving it up, savouring everything he could get from her. And there was that one time where he'd fucked her six ways to Sunday, left her in a quivering mess on the bed, and passed out beside her, his glorious cock still jutting proudly beneath the sheet. Of course, she made sure to take care of him the next morning.

"Splinters," she muttered, tugging at his belt.

"What?" Connor moaned as her fingers snagged the fine hairs just below his navel.

"I don't want splinters. And it's fucking freezing out here. Can we go inside now?"

He chuckled and moved off of her after kissing her soundly once more. He led her around to the side not facing the house and shouldered the door open. "Wait here for a second," he murmured before disappearing into the inky dark of the building. A few minutes later a soft golden glow came to life and he reappeared around the corner with a small oil lamp. He waved her in. "C'mon."

He'd found a nice, cozy little spot near the back of the barn, in amongst random hay bales and some of Da's work benches. After finding a few blankets and tossing them over the hay bales, he peeled his coat off and tossed it to one side. "All right," he growled mischievously, "get over here. I'm goin' ta show ya what an 'old man' can do." He winked at her.

She snickered and then ran at him, barrelling into him and laying him out across a hay bale. Her lips found his immediately, and her hands tore off her jacket and undid a few buttons on her shirt before moving to the hem of his sweater again. But something was wrong. His lips were not kissing her back. Slowly, she pulled away and stared down at him. "Connor?" If she didn't know better, she'd say his eyes were…_shining_. With unshed tears.

He mentally counted to ten, and took a few deep breaths in and out. He hadn't actually expected her to jump him and when she'd flattened him to the rather solid surface of the hay bale, his back had protested sharply, enough to make his eyes water. It wasn't like she weighed too much, on the contrary, she was light and lean, rather like Murphy. But too much time in the saddle recently, combined with the injuries he'd sustained after taking a five floor header out of his loft window with a toilet about six years ago, had made his back rather temperamental.

"I'm fine," he finally groaned, nodding quickly. The pain was already subsiding, and the fact that he had a hot little brunette in his lap was washing away any whingeing he felt the urge to do.

Together they divested each other of their clothes, pausing to latch their mouths to certain curves of muscle, flat planes of smooth skin, ridged scars, and all the pink parts in between. When he'd licked her from top to tail, not to get her off, as he told her, but to get all that taste in his mouth, he flipped her over to her hands and knees, draping her over a hay bale. He smoothed a hand up her delicate spine and pushed the heavy fall of dark hair over her shoulder so he could see the full expanse of smooth skin beneath him.

He started at her shoulder. The touch of his lips there made her squirm and sigh, and he slid one hand up to her neck, his fingertips ghosting over the veins at her throat, and then skimmed those fingers down the opposite side his lips were mapping. He traced her flanks, finding the crease of her underarm and the tender skin just below her breasts, and then continued on.

It was like he was barely touching all the fine hairs on her body. One big electrical jolt thrummed through her torso down between her thighs as she felt him hovering over her, his skin throwing off incredible heat, the hairs on the tops of his thighs tickling the backs of hers as he leaned over her. His cock pressed gently at the cleft of her ass, and he rocked it there as his hands hooked against her hips and pulled her slowly until they were pressed tightly together. She was so on edge, she was shaking and she leaned further onto her elbows, tilting her hips higher, conveying her urgency.

"Connor," she heard herself moan. If she admitted to herself, she sounded borderline desperate.

"Hmm," he soothed, palming circles over the firm twin globes of her ass. His thumbs ghosted down and parted her, and he cocked his head to watch her ripeness spread for him. He hissed in pleasure and held the tip of his cock to her entrance, barely pushing against her.

A warbled coo left her throat, something akin to a pigeon, and it made him snicker until she shot a dangerous look at him from over her shoulder. "Conn," she growled. "Put it in me."

His lips made a tiny 'o' as he obeyed, pushing in a few inches and holding there. She was tight, just like he knew she would be, and the way her cunt pulsed around him was making his toes curl. Her hips wiggled and she pushed back against him, a whine on her lips. He pulled back, only to press deeper, and this time he snared her clit between two fingers and pulled gently as he did. He watched himself disappear inside of her and looked up to see her toss her head back, her hair fanning out.

He grinned. "Oooh, kitty like that?" he purred. He sank as deep as he could, drawing another purely feminine sound from her. When he couldn't get any further, he paused, and then rolled her clit around until she sobbed, her head hanging between her shoulders.

That's when he really started to ride her. He was gentle at first, thrusting in and out leisurely, grinding along every ridge and never ending she had so that her eyes crossed and she babbled incoherently. His hands found her hips again and he rocked into her harder, making her gasp sharply. He pounded her deep, making the very edges of her womb throb between pleasure and pain. With her teeth clenched and her hands in fists, she panted, moaning with every jerk of his hips against her. He could make her come from this alone, and she was certain she would any second. Every plunge of his cock made her wetter and tighter around him; pleasant exhaustion began to spread into her thighs as he rode her quick and sure.

She was on _fire_ tonight, taking everything he was giving her and dishing back almost as much. He loved that she could go head to head with him around the mattress (or kitchen table, or shower, or car, or change room, or grocery store parking lot, or hey, look, a barn) and his hands tightened on her hips as he pulled her to him every time he ploughed into her. His hips were snapping against hers now; he couldn't believe how wet she was already. He knew that she would come soon and he raced to get her there.

She was reminded of bumper cars. Only this was more pleasant. She'd never had a screaming orgasm in a bumper car (okay, she had, but that was after the carnival was closed for the evening), and never thought that the jarring effect that made her skull rattle would be arousing. But here she was, being shoved into overdrive by Connor MacManus and his amazing cock, in a weathered barn in the Irish countryside. She loved living abroad. Her hips crashed back into his and she began fucking him back wildly, trying to take him even deeper than he'd already been. As she came up to her knees and found her clit, her hips spun back into him, making him jerk and suddenly pause.

He thought he might be coming, but the sharp twinge in his spine did not travel to his balls and melt into white hot bolts of pleasure. Instead, it tore up his back and stabbed into his shoulders, before viciously wrenching his lower back and made his legs turn to jelly. "Oh, fuck me!" he groaned sharply.

She frowned, slowing her motion slightly as she felt Connor go ramrod straight. He'd said some pretty interesting things in the throes of an orgasm before, but that last one had sounded rather…_pained_. "Connor?" She quickly looked over her shoulder and drew her eyebrows together in confusion. Connor's face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, and his face was screwed up between anger and fear. She took another breath and twisted again. "Conn?"

"Don't fuckin' move!" he growled sharply. When she twisted, because he was still buried balls deep in her, she jerked his back and it sent a painful spear of agony through his back.

Her hand clapped over her mouth and she assessed the situation as best she could, in the position she was in. "Are you okay?" she whispered after a moment.

He winced and closed his eyes tightly, and then shook his head in the negative. "It's me back," he muttered with a tight jaw.

"Your back?" she repeated, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly.

"Aye," he whimpered as she moved again. "Christ, lass, yav got ta stop wigglin'…"

"Umm…" she frowned. "Kinda hard when your dick is still in me." She glanced to the hay bale before her. "I'm gonna…get off. Well, I don't think I'll be doing that tonight."

She felt Connor chuckle behind her and then hiss in pain once more. "Don't make me laugh," he groaned.

"Okay, okay, just hold on. No, don't hold on, I need to move. Just…on three, okay?" She looked back over her shoulder and tried not to giggle.

"S'not funny," Connor sniffed, although even in his current state, he couldn't keep the half smile from his face. He bit the side of his tongue. "Okay, just…hop off, all right?"

"Okay," she nodded. Shifting to move, Connor suddenly stopped her.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait."

She looked back over her shoulder. "What?"

"I'm goin' ta need something ta hold on to." He squeezed her ass. "I can't bend more than I already am."

She swung her gaze forward again. "All right." Her eyes scanned the barn and then she noticed a pitch fork leaning against one wall. "How long do you have once I move?"

"Ten seconds maybe. You find somethin'?"

She nodded. "You ready?"

"M'not goin' anywhere," he growled.

"Okay, on three. One."

"Two," Connor groaned.

"Three!" She shimmied off his cock and then vaulted over a hay bale in move that would make an Olympic gymnast proud to snag the pitchfork. She was back at Connor's side in eight seconds (insert rodeo joke here) and stabbed the fork into the hay bale she had been sprawled over, angling it so that Connor could clutch at the handle and lean into it.

"Ah, Christ on tha cross," he whimpered.

He expected a coo of sympathy, or her fingers lighting over his hair, or maybe even his coat being draped over his shoulders as it was getting fucking cold in there as he was covered in various fluids and no longer balls deep in a hot pussy. What he got was a snicker, and then a giggle, and finally a full on snort followed by a howling peal of laughter.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "I'm sorry, but…you're like, what, thirty four? And it's your _back_?"

Connor cursed. "It's not the years, aye? It's the feckin' mileage," he snapped. "I need ya ta go an' get Murphy."

That sobered her quickly. "What?"

"I need Murphy in here. There's no way yer gonna be able ta get me inta tha house. Go run up and get him for me, aye?"

"Now?"

"No, next fuckin' Tuesday," Connor snarled. The pain was starting to make him angry. "Please, go now, lass, okay? It really fuckin' hurts."

She could hear the pain lancing through his words – she'd never experienced it, but she had an uncle who suffered from a trick back. She nodded quickly and shoved her feet into her boots and then yanked on Connor's jacket

"Christ – put some feckin' pants on!" he bellowed as she ran out of the barn.

"No time!" she called back, hastily buttoning his coat. She skidded up the gravel driveway and clumped up the rough wooden steps to hammer on the door. Christ, it was freezing out here. She wrapped her arms around her middle, sinking down into the collar of Connor's coat. She glanced back towards the barn. Behind her, the door swung open and she turned, suddenly remembering that Connor had said both Murphy _and_ his Da were home.

"Um…Hi. Mr. MacManus. Good evening." Shit, she'd never met him before and from the way he was looking at her, she hoped they never met again. It wasn't like he was judging her, but he certainly had a puzzled look on his face, one that Connor often got when he was curious about something. "Is Murphy home?"

Noah MacManus opened mouth and then closed it, rubbing his beard. "Is tha' Connor's coat, lass?"

"Yessir."

He glanced down, taking her bare legs and her unlaced boots. Looking up at her once more, he rubbed his beard harder. "Now, I know I'm not yer father, aye? But don't ya think pants, dear, would have been an excellent addition to yer fashion statement?"

She felt her cheeks burn and was readying herself to give him the update on Connor, when Murphy appeared at his Da's shoulder, shovelling half a piece of pizza in his mouth. "Oi!" he greeted around the mouthful. He chewed a few times and then took a hefty swig off of his beer. "Connor's not here," he explained, knowing her face. He looked down. "Where the feck are yer pants?"

"In the barn. With Connor."

Both MacManus men stared at her questioningly. "Connor…uh…" she paused, trying to find a way to put this delicately. Oh, hell, she was practically naked on their doorstep. As if they couldn't put two and two together. "He put his back out." She shrugged and gave them a weak smile.

Noah nodded faintly, still looking confused, but Murphy choked on the second swig of beer he was taking and burst out laughing. She shifted in her boots and dared to look at Mr. MacManus who was trying his hardest not to smile. He nodded very faintly, patted Murphy on the shoulder and muttered something like 'go an' take care o' yer brudder.'

Murphy, once the initial laughter had subsided and he was only giggling in short bursts, wandered back to the kitchen and returned with another beer. He twisted the cap off and held it out to the half-naked brunette and then pulled on his boots and his coat. "So, what were ya doin' that made him throw his back out, aye?" He grinned lewdly at her and chuckled again.

"Does this happen to him often?" she asked, skirting his question.

Murphy shrugged as they rounded the barn. "Only when he's doing vigorous activity, girl." He winked and was answered with a swift, sharp fist to his shoulder. "Ow, feck me, girl, ya sure ya didin't injure him?"

"Not directly," she muttered, following Murphy into the barn.

"Oi! Conn! Where are ya, brudder?"

"Christ, Murph, hurry tha feck up, I'm dyin' back here!"

Murphy took off in the direction of his brother, the brunette hot on his heels, and rounded the corner to assess the situation. Which, of course, made him break into laughter all over again. Connor was bare-assed naked, clutching onto a pitchfork for dear life, and still, somehow, sporting half-wood. Murphy cocked his head to one side and then to the other, before glancing back at the brunette behind him.

"Jesus, you must be tha fuck o'tha century, girl! Me brudder's still got wood!" He pointed to said wood and snickered.

She had to blush at Murphy's comment, strangely boosted and yet still embarrassed by it. If the situation weren't so…painful, she'd consider getting a hand in there to start things up again. It had been getting pretty hot…

"All right, quit makin' fun o'me cock an' get me tha fuck on me back!"

"Aye, that's what the transvestite said," Murphy droned.

"I swear ta _Christ_, Murph, when I get better, I'm goin' ta kick yer pale arse from here ta Tipperary."

The brunette opened her mouth but Connor shut it with a blazing stare. "An' no makin' jokes how long of a way it is!"

She clapped her mouth shut and took a step back to let Murphy try to figure out what he was going to do. The darker MacManus scratched his chin and then chewed his thumb for a moment. "All right, m'goin' ta try somethin'. Hold on, be right back." He disappeared to the other side of the barn and hustled back, pressing a finger to his lips as the brunette stared at him in horrific fascination. He was cradling something in his hands that was about to make or break the situation.

"All right, Connor," Murphy began in a laughter-shaking voice. "Try not ta move. I don't know if this is gonna work." He swung his arm back and brought it forward underhand.

Connor leaned on the pitchfork, waiting for a shock of pain to lace through his back, his eyes screwed shut. He heard a dull _thud_ from somewhere near his feet and cracked an eye open. He couldn't turn to look at Murphy, the angle was too painful, and he couldn't look down either. But he could see the brunette and she looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Murph," Connor growled. "What are ya doin?"

"Hold on, I missed that one. Keep still, will ya?" He swung his arm back again and pitched it forward.

Another dull _thunk_ sounded at Connor's feet and this time he bore the pain and craned his neck down to his feet. "Murph," he addressed icily. "Tell me yer not pitchin' horseshoes at me cock."

Murphy snorted loudly and tossed a third horseshow, narrowly missing Connor's softening erection. It clattered to Connor's feet, _clunk_-ing against the other two. "Aww, that was so close!" he crowed.

"MURPH!" Connor roared. "Not funny!"

"Well, come on, when in Rome!"

"Throw horseshoes at yer brudder's cock?"

Murphy rolled his eyes and approached Connor. "Easy, brudder, come on, ya can't tell me ya wouldn't do the same ta me." He stood behind Connor and put a gentle hand on his brother's lower back. "Right there?"

Connor winced. "Aye," he groaned.

Murphy nodded. "Okay." He glanced at the brunette. "Lass, can ya grab the wheelbarrow? It's round back. We're gonna hafta wheel em' out an' up to tha house. Da an' I can carry him in from there."

"Wheelbarrow. Got it." The brunette turned to leave the barn when Murphy called her back.

"Aye, put some pants on, will ya?" He nodded at Connor. "He's not finishin' tonight, or anytime soon."

She nodded and then noticed she was still holding the beer Murphy had handed her. "Um, here," she said, pushing it back into his free hand. The darker MacManus shrugged and took a long sip and then offered it to Connor, who gratefully partook. The brunette jumped around the hay bales, searching frantically for her jeans. When she found them, she toed off her boots and stepped into the denim, sliding them her thighs. Things had grown suspiciously quiet behind her and she turned to find the MacManus twins watching her, heads tilted, matching expressions of piqued curiosity as they watched her long, bare legs disappear under the denim.

"Jesus, do you guys think of anything else but booze and pussy?" She was trying to be serious, but in all honesty, she was having a hard time not seeing the humour in the entire situation.

Connor forced a glance at his brother and then back to the brunette. He lifted one shoulder gingerly in a half-shrug. He grimaced slightly. "Lord's fuckin' name," he chided. "Didn't think there was anyting else worth tinkin' about.

She rubbed her face and sighed. "All right, fine. I'll go and get that wheelbarrow. Be right back."

At least she had the moon on her side. It would be black as pitch out here without it, and she'd be hard pressed to find the wheelbarrow on the backside of the barn. She'd been in a few ridiculous situations before, but searching for a wheelbarrow on a sheep farm while her lover was trussed up against a pitchfork with a seized back topped the list. Shaking her head, she managed to wheel the thing around front, in time to see Murphy opening the main doors of the barn.

"Perfect, thanks, girl," he grinned, handing her the beer. "Finish that off, aye? Hate ta see it go ta waste."

She followed Murphy inside and back to where Connor was. He was still stark naked. Swallowing the rest of the beer, she set the bottle down on a nearby bench. "Should we try to put his clothes on?"

"Nah, it'll move him around too much," Murphy said with a frown. "Grab that blanket, aye? Put it in the barrow; keep him from freezin' his arse ta the metal."

She did as directed and then, with Murphy's guidance, held the barrow steady as they lined it up directly behind Connor. For his part, the lighter MacManus had grown rather silent, a sullen look on his features that rippled with stabs of pain every now and then. He groaned sharply at one point, and Murphy grunted in response.

"All right, Conn, I'm gonna help tip ya back, aye? Keep that barrow firm, girl. Hopefully he doesn't drop like a sack of potatoes."

She hissed with him as he landed as softly as Murphy could get him to, and she chewed her lip at his nakedness sprawled in a wheelbarrow.

"S'a good look fer ya, Connor," Murphy joked. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over his brother's torso. "All right, halfway there, aye? We'll get ya up to tha house and get a bottle o'whiskey in ta ya." He glanced at the brunette. "Run up ahead and open the door, aye? We'll lay him out on the couch in the sitting room."

* * *

"I'm really sorry about earlier," the brunette offered gently as she brushed Connor's hair from his forehead.

"S'not yer fault, love," Connor drawled. He blinked bleary eyes and took another sip of whiskey.

"I mean, for laughing," she clarified.

Connor snorted and handed her the bottle. "Can't blame ya fer that," he replied. "I would have done tha same ting."

"And I'm sorry about calling you old," she added after swallowing a mouthful of whiskey.

He chuckled. "Well, thass' still up for debate." He shifted and uttered a curse under his breath.

His sharp hiss of pain made her sit up straighter from where she was parked on the floor, leaning against the couch. "Are you okay? Do you need something?" She twisted around to her knees and put her hand next to his hip to lean over him.

"Aye," Connor muttered, his eyes closed but his lips tilted in half a smile.

"Pillow? Ice? Hot water bottle?"

Her frantic listing of things made him sigh contentedly. He shook his head and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. Gnawing on the tip of her pointer finger resulted in a startled gasp; when he opened his eyes she was staring down at him with bewilderment.

He hummed and moved her hand to the blanket that was draped over his hips. He hadn't bothered getting dressed; as Murphy had said, it was too painful to move around that much. That meant that he was naked under the blanket. He left her palm on the flat plane of his belly and then removed his hand, giving her a pointed look before winking slyly.

"Connor!" she hissed with a grin, flicking her dark eyes to the hallway that led to the room he shared with Murphy and his Da's bedroom.

"They're heavy sleepers, lass," he reassured softly. "An' I'm not a screamer like you." He nodded at her hand and bit his lip as her fingertips curled gently and slid an inch lower. "Go on," he urged.

Well, it was the least she could do, after laughing at him while he was in pain. And for not stopping Murphy's impromptu game of horseshoes. She stole another quick glance to the hallway before looking back to Connor. "You sure?"

He nodded and answered her with a heated groan as her fingers combed through the coarse, dark blond hair between his thighs. She froze at the sound and panicked. "Oh my god, what? Did that hurt?"

Connor snapped his eyes back open, the color swirling with lust and desperation. "Trust me, it didn't hurt. I'll let ya know if it does. Just go slow, aye?" His words died as he felt her hand circle his reawakened cock gently, tugging him to full potency. He hummed again and gave a little nod.

Slow? She could do slow, but she didn't know if he could. She rebalanced on her knees and slid the blanket down past his thighs. The sight was enticing: Connor MacManus naked, on his back, completely at her mercy. God in heaven, he was gorgeous, despite the state of discomfort he was in. She briefly wondered what he might have been like ten years prior, but then quickly shook that thought from her mind. She would have been fourteen. She managed to not shudder and concentrated once more on the man before her.

Her hand was cool, but soft, and he had to keep telling himself that bucking into her grip would only cause him pain. He was a slave to her whim; he could only lay there and feel every stroke up and down, the little twist she threw in when she neared the tip of his now straining cock, the way her thumb rolled over the slickness that steadily leaked from him. He watched, unabashedly, as her eyes devoured his erection as greedily as her hand did. She was getting off on getting him off and it made his toes curl.

She sensed the change in his breathing and forced her eyes from the sumptuous feast before her and up into his gaze. She almost melted at the look he was giving her; her thighs pressed together as her fist tightened up around his cock. His upper teeth flashed white as they dug into his bottom lip and he moaned in his throat, nostrils flaring. A heated flush started at his chest and crept up to his cheekbones and his ears. He nodded faintly. "Don't stop," he pleaded.

"Okay," she breathes. "I won't." She shifts on her knees again, gaining a better angle.

"C'mere," he whispers hotly, tugging her free hand with his. "Want ta kiss ya," he murmurs.

His words are hot and they vibrate against her lips. The kiss is long and deep, and at one point she falters her rhythm around his cock, but he steadies her with his other hand and together, they find that perfect tempo once more. He doesn't move his hand, merely holds hers to him, tighter, faster, and they breath each other's breaths as their tongues and lips slip over and over again. He chokes on a whine, his head butting up under her jaw, the hand not stroking with her now clutching her hair. "M'goin' ta come," he murmurs.

Her lips leave his and he whimpers, trying to chase her mouth with his, but a quick stab of pain makes him think better of it and he flops back, defeated, but entranced as her head hovers near his lap. Suddenly, the scorching cavern of her mouth swallows him and he chokes on a gasp as her hot, clever tongue laps around the head and wiggles against the underside, rubbing over and over as her fist tightens at the base.

When he comes, he hisses sharply, and the waves are slow and languorous, licking at him with white hot flames of pleasure. His hand tugs her hair in time with his heartbeat and the pull of her lips. He hears her sigh around him and feels the tug of her throat closing as she swallows him down until there's nothing left. Only when he starts to wane in her mouth does she back off and slide her gaze to him, pressing her cheek into her shoulder and giving him a small, bashful smile.

She primly wipes one corner of her mouth with her thumb and then sucks on the digit, before giggling softly and reminding him why he likes her so much. At twenty four, she's no Madonna, but she's no whore, either. She dances a fine line between and every once in a while, she surprises him. This was the first time he'd come in her mouth and it is enough to send another bolt of pleasure through him. But he's tired. Too tired to do anything else right now and the pain in his back is starting to creep back in, now that he doesn't have the clanging bells of pleasure ringing in his skull.

"Sunday tomorrow?" she murmurs from where she's stretched out on the floor beside the couch. She doesn't care a lick that she's sleeping on the floor, as long as she's sleeping with him.

"Aye," he mutters, still trying to catch his breath.

"Safe to say your Dad and Murphy are going to Mass?"

"Aye," he answers again, smiling at the intent in her voice.

"Probably be gone a few hours at least, right?"

"Aye," Connor grins. "What did you have in mind?"

Her head pops back up, her face inches from his, her breath skating over his jaw. "You're just going to have to lay there and take whatever I dish out, aren't you?"

Connor chuckles and leans back into his pillow as she disappears back down to the floor. Aye, being couch ridden was going to be tough. He wondered if he could talk his brother and Da into going out for brunch, too.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
